Beast
by Agnes Stewart
Summary: Roger asks Simon what he means when he says there isn't a beast.


Simon walked through the jungle, the sun occasionally peeking through the canopy and shining against his dark skin. Otherwise, the jungle was dark and damp and sweat clung to his forehead and coarse hair.

It was quiet, all except for the buzzing of flies and the songs of birds. Simon sang along as well, making up words for the melodies they chirped. He came across a clearing, and the small stream that ran alongside it. Squatting by the water, the boy cupped his hands, splashing some water into his face.

Simon heard a sharp noise behind him, some sort of rustling, and turned abruptly. His green eyes were large with alarm as they scanned the clearing. Seeing nothing, he turned back around and drank from the stream. The water was cool, and Simon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned down to drink more when he heard footsteps behind him and toppled into the stream, someone crashing on top of him.

He tried to fight back as fingernails began digging into his arms. Simon kicked and squirmed until he heard laughter. "Calm down, Simon." The boy looked up, his clothes soaked through, to see Roger looming over him, grinning.

"Don't do that," he muttered weakly as he sat up.

"I can do whatever I want," Roger said, arranging himself on the edge of the stream, still looking down at Simon. "You can't tell me what not to do."

The boy nodded. "I guess so." He could tell that Roger felt some sort of power over him, and he would push it as far as he could.

"So… what were you doing out here all alone anyways?" Roger asked. "It's not safe to be out in the jungle alone, especially with the beast lurking around."

"I was just going for a walk," he muttered. "And I don't believe in the beast."

"I know," the boy answered, his hands swirling absentmindedly in the water. Simon sat down on the bank beside him, his hands shaking slightly. He hadn't gotten over the shock of being knocked into the water.

They sat in comfortable silence, though the two had never really used words with each other, or even needed them. "Simon?"

The boy glanced up. "Yeah?"

"What do you mean there isn't a beast?" Roger asked, his hands clasped on his knees. His spear was on the grass beside him, bloody at the end, so Simon knew he had come from hunting.

"There is a beast, but not like something on the island, not like a lion." Roger showed no signs of interrupting, so Simon continued nervously, "It's more like something inside of us, something evil. It makes you hurt people." Overwhelmed by the urge to get his message out, he added, "Ever since we've got here, everyone's got worse. Sure, you've always liked hurting people and Jack has always been controlling, but it's worse now. The beast is… taking over our minds and making us-"

He was cut off by Roger, who placed a hand on his mouth. The smaller boy flushed, and looked down at his hands.

"You're probably right," Roger said quietly, all advantage he had disappearing. He was considerably subdued, and Simon frowned.

"Sorry if I upset you." He looked up, his eyes troubled.

Roger shook his head. "No, it's fine. You're right." He smiled and said, "I guess I am a beast."

Simon fell quiet. That hadn't been exactly what he had meant, but Roger wasn't eager to change his mind. The boy had taken up his spear and was tapping it against a stone in the stream, almost daring Simon to speak. The two remained quiet.

The smaller boy looked up at the canopy of trees above him, exhaling deeply. He shut his eyes, the warm sun glowing against his warm skin. The tapping stopped, though Simon didn't think much of it, until Roger's frame crashed against him and held him to the ground. A hand was on each of his shoulders and when he opened his eyes, he saw Roger looming over him once again with a malicious smile.

"But remember, Simon," he said, an insane edge to his voice. "It's not safe to be wandering around on your own, what with the beast and all."

"But-" The dark boy cut his protest short with a kiss to his mouth.

"Shush," Roger said, his voice surprisingly gentle for the crazed look in his eyes. "I _am_ the beast. Thanks for helping me figure it out." He leaned forward again, laying a kiss on Simon's nose.

Roger then released Simon, who scrambled up. The dark boy grabbed his spear and got to his feet, laying it over his shoulder. "You can go along now. But be careful, crazy, little boy." He said it with a smile, but Simon still flinched at the word 'crazy'.

"Bye, Roger," he rushed, hurrying out of the clearing.

The dark boy laughed and laughed as he stabbed his spear into the ground.

_Way to scare him off, Roger._


End file.
